No Surprises
by Sir Hawkeye Who
Summary: Ninth Doctor Post Time war, angst song fic thing. The Doctor crash lands somewhere familiar after regenerating and makes an important decision. The bold parts are a voice in his head. Doctor/Romana in retrospect. Song by Radiohead.


The parts in bold are a voice inside the doctor's head.

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* * *

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_A heart that's full up like a landfill _

_A job that slowly kills you_

_Bruises that won't heal _

All he remembers after regenerating is crash landing on a random planet, scrambling from his TARDIS, falling to his knees and weeping. No screaming out in anguish and pain.

_**They're gone. **_

***

Picking his hands from the ground he noticed he'd arrived on a snow covered planet, the crisp white mass turning his bare hands red raw. Cautiously turning his head upwards he gazed around his new surroundings. He knew this place. He knew it well. This was Ribos.

He fell back on the earth as the snow flakes dropped softly down his new outfit and his cropped hair.

"Why here?" he managed.

_**It could've been Paris. **_

From the corner of his eye he saw something familiar. The trap he got caught in when he had landed here. The first place he took _her_. It had not been sprung yet. His former self and _her _had not been here.

Seconds later an unmistakeable gushing sound came echoing through and he knew what would happen next. Stealing away back to his TARDIS, setting the coordinates for the nearest time stream, he fled. He could not bare to look upon _her_ even if it was a different _her_ he had killed. That woman he first met all those years ago still had resided in _her_.

_**Well at least you won't have to worry about them calling you back there and trapping you to do their bidding, ha.**_

_You look so tired, happy_

_Bring down the government_

_They don't, they don't speak for us_

That was that, he'd made a decision. Rushing off to his medicine cabinet he yanked the door open and produced a small blue pill box.

_**You're really going to do it, ey? Best idea you've had since you killed them.**_

On his way back to the console room he stopped off in the wardrobe and searched for one of the only remnants he had left of _her_. After frantic searching he beheld his prize. A white scarf. It was strewn on floor underneath many of his hideous old waistcoats.

_**Never forgot about her, did you? Hah, how sickening you are.**_

Wrapping it around his neck and pressing its soft woollen fibres to his skin he took in its aroma. It still smelt of her. His hearts wrenched as stinging tears betrayed the strong features of his new face.

***

The coordinates set, he was ready.

_I'll take a quiet life_

_A handshake of carbon monoxide _

_And no alarms and no surprises_

_No alarms and no surprises_

_No alarms and no surprises, please. _

_***_

He landed on a minute uninhabited planet, a crescent moon and a handful of stars strewn across the sky, observing and scrutinizing his movements.

Gathering wood from the nearby forest he started a fire on the grass in front of the TARDIS.

Gazing up at the sky he began to pray in his own tongue. This was no the proper way of honouring the dead of Gallifrey but neither was what he was about to do next proper by any Time Lords standards.

_**They tried to end your life many times, don't forget. **_

Pulling the pill box from his pocket, he snapped it open to reveal a black capsule. Powerful enough to kill most species. To ease the pain he had already decided what his last thoughts would be of.

"I'm sorry, Susan."

"I'm sorry, Leela."

"I'm sorry… Romana."

Placing the capsule on his tongue , he then swallowed it whole.

He shifted to lay down near the fire, the flames dancing in his ancient eyes. Turning his head to the sky his eyes slid shut, blocking out reality.

Paris in the springtime. Scaroth and the happy fisted philistine, Duggan came into view. His younger self ran through the streets with a brilliant grin on his face as he grasped the hand of _her_. Radiance in every step she took. Romanadvoratrelundar. Did he love her? He knows. Oh, he knows.

As his mind darkens she turns to him and gently smiles and then there was nothing.

"I know."

A dark figure leaned over him before dragging him back to his TARDIS.

In the soft gloom of the TARDIS the figure is that of a short and slight woman with long, dark, flowing hair.

Kneeling down beside him she presses her forehead against his for a few seconds, then tenderly kisses his lips allowing it to linger longer than it should before distancing herself from him.

"Luckily that was the wrong capsule. That was just a strong sedative. Be careful won't you I might not be here the next time."

***

He awoke days or even weeks later as if he'd woken from a short nap. He was tired of weeping.

The scarf still pressed against his skin he decided to visit Paris.

Paris in the springtime. He might catch a glimpse of the happy fisted philistine, his deliriously happy younger self and _her_.

_No alarms and no surprises_

_No alarms and no surprises_

_No alarms and no surprises, please. _


End file.
